"Are you rich?"
He shrugs one shoulder. "Not really. I've made a decent living from treasure hunting, but I don't own a ruddy castle."
"I'm not technically rich either. But I have enough money to pay for this expedition."
"What do you mean, you aren't technically rich?"
I ignore his question and lean toward him to study our sandwiches. "Got any tomatoes?"
He stares at me for a moment, then turns around to search inside the fridge.
Yeah, I know how to be evasive. But one way or another, I will gain his cooperation. I might even kidnap him to do it. I'm that desperate.
Chapter Three
Errol
I do not understand Ashley Hartman. She stalks me for months, makes out with me in the castle, and then shows up at my doorstep asking me to listen to her proposal. I already know what the lass wants. I've already told her no, many times. She must be a bampot underneath her calm and sexy exterior. Only a lunatic would behave this way.
Maybe I wouldn't mind shagging her, but the woman clearly has problems. I donnae like getting tangled up in someone else's issues. But I did offer to feed her. And I agreed to listen to whatever she means to tell me.Mhac na galla.
I finish adding cherry tomatoes to our sandwiches, then lead Ashley over to the table by the window. I carefully place her plate at one end and mine at the opposite end. That way, I won't need to be too close to her. The lass is very attractive, and I seem to have lost all my common sense lately. Cannae risk being within kissing distance of Ashley.
She waits until I've sat down, then picks up her plate and takes a seat right next to me. "Thank you for making lunch, Mr. Murdoch. This looks delicious."
"My mother grew the tomatoes. She loves gardening."
"Really. Do you enjoy it too?"
"No."
She watches me while she takes a bite of her sandwich and slowly chews it.
I take a bite of mine, but her unwavering focus on me starts to make me feel uncomfortable. Why does Ashley insist on doing that? She should focus on her food, not me. "What did you want to say? I eat fast, so you best start talking."
"Please let me explain about the expedition. I need your help, Mr. Murdoch."
"Might as well call me Errol. I prefer that, anyway."
"But you didn't want to call me Ashley."
I slap my half-eaten sandwich down on my plate. "I'd rather you go home and give up. But since that seems unlikely, just say your piece. And if you must use my name, call me Errol."
"Will you call me Ashley?"
"Aye, fine. Get on with it."
She eats another bite of her sandwich first, then daintily wipes her hands and mouth with her napkin. She clears her throat. "This expedition is personal for me. I need to prove the Grand Canyon treasure is real. I don't care if archaeologists accept the find. I don't care if the media covers the expedition. All I want is proof."
"Why?"
"My reasons are personal."
I fold my arms over my chest and stare at her. "That's not an explanation."
"Maybe if we got to know each other a little better, I'd feel comfortable sharing more with you. As it stands, I don't know if I can trust you to keep my secrets."
"Ah, so ye do have secrets." I shake my head. "Donnae like that either, Ashley. If you want my help, I need facts."